


Tactile Pleasures

by CorpusInvictus



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, vulcan hand porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorpusInvictus/pseuds/CorpusInvictus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Star Trek XI Kink Meme prompt: Kirk, wanting to right by Spock, and wanting to make their relationship meaningful, decides to take their relationship slowly, and, instead of having sex right away, decides to do (what he thinks are) harmless acts of affection, such as holding hands and brief touches. Only, for those of Vulcan descent, the fingers/hands are much more sensitive than for humans. Make this a fluff-filled relationship fic. I want it to make my teeth rot with sweetness by the end of it. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactile Pleasures

They become friends after Kirk is named Captain. Kirk is there for him when Uhura and Spock part ways. Amicable as it is, Spock seems lost when he isn't on duty and Kirk starts distracting him with chess games, shocked at how easily Spock can destroy him. Spock is there for him when Kirk loses his first man on a planetside scouting mission. He lets the Captain drink away the guilt without comment, half carries him back to his quarters, and spends a good deal of the night simply listening to Kirk's slurred apologies and frustrations.

Things begin to change between them. Chess matches start dragging on for hours, peppered with sidetracked conversation. Spock will stand with their arms touching when they're listening to a message on the viewscreen. Kirk will throw an arm over Spock's shoulders when they beam back to the ship. They start exchanging thoughts without so much as a word, all quick glances and long stares over the console.

They start sharing meals, sharing paperwork duties, even sharing a drink - which, to be fair, mostly involves Kirk getting loudmouthed and overly affectionate with his officers while Spock tries not to let the corners of his mouth twitch up too much.

It's on one of those occasions that their hands first touch. Spock can't even remember the joke - he only remembers the Captain reaching over and squeezing his hand affectionately. The gesture lasts only a few seconds before Kirk is reaching for his beer again, but it has Spock sitting rigidly in his seat, shoulders set and spine tense. He is grateful when no one else in the Mess Hall seems to have noticed the change in his behavior, until he sees Kirk watching him out of the corner of his eye.

They don't speak of it until some days later. It's another long, drawn-out night of chess and easy conversation. They're only about an hour into their current game, and the discussion of Klingon war technology distracts Kirk enough to make an unthinking blunder.

"Captain, this is three dimensional chess," Spock reminds him. "Castling is not permitted." He moves to point out the offending pieces.

"Shit," Kirk mutters, reaching for the rook at the same time. His fingers skitter over Spock's knuckles, and the other man draws back quickly as if he's been burned. Kirk blinks at him, fixing the pieces before he speaks. "You did that the other night in Mess, too," he says casually. "There something painful about having your hands touched?"

"Not precisely," Spock grounds out, pressing the back of his hand to his thigh as if to erase the sense-memory of being touched.

"Allergic to humans?"

"Were that the case, I would have shown signs of it before now."

"It was a joke, Spock."

"Ah." He should have noticed that, but he's too busy concentrating on getting his heart rate back to its normal rhythm. He takes a breath to steady himself before he explains. "It is a consequence of Vulcan biology."

Kirk raises an eyebrow at that, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs. "Really?"

Spock launches into lecture mode. "It is one of the reasons Vulcans do not touch one another. The hands and fingers of a Vulcan are sensitive to even light stimuli and we therefore generally refrain from tactile contact. Vulcans will only touch if they are biologically related or bonded. Even then it is considered an extremely intimate gesture."

Kirk's eyebrows are nearly at his hairline now. "How sensitive?" he asks, as if he hasn't even heard the previous lecture.

Spock knows exactly where his mind is going. He's a bit disgruntled at himself for not being more irritated over it. "Sensitive," he says with some finality, and Kirk drops the matter.

After that, it becomes a habit of Kirk's to touch him whenever he can get away with it. He brushes their fingers together at the Mess Hall. He rests a hand over Spock's on the control panel. On a particularly unsettling occasion he even laces their fingers together on a stealth mission on Cadmus.

It's a gesture that goes straight to Spock's gut, causing him to gasp loudly enough to give away their position. The next few moments are a blur of phaser fire and distracting light patterns as Scotty tries to beam them up before they're injured. A split second before Spock blinks out of existence he feels some form of debris slam into the back of his head, and a split second later when he materializes again there is a small green trickle down the back of his neck.

McCoy releases him from Sick Bay within an hour. He returns to his quarters to rest before he has to report for duty. He's unsurprised when he sees Kirk has preceded him, sitting at the foot of his bed and looking guilty. "I hope you have been attending to your duties rather than hiding in my quarters," he says, moving to sit next to him.

"I did. I was. Bones told me he'd let you out." He makes an odd gesture as if he wants to touch Spock, then visibly stops himself, hands gripping the bedcovers instead. "It was my fault. I'm sorry my stupidity got you hurt."

"It is not the first time, nor will it be the last." There's no vitriol in the words, merely truth and logic. There will be a next time, either stemming from the Captain's reckless behavior or Spock's instinctive desire to protect him. "There is no need for an apology. I am not seriously injured."

"I shouldn't have done it. I just ... wanted to touch you."

"Perhaps next time you could give into temptation in an area less likely to erupt in violence," Spock says dryly.

"I'll stop," Kirk says, and he sounds dejected.

There's a twinge in his heart at the prospect. There's been something developing between them, a bond that goes beyond the boundaries of friendship, and the idea that Kirk won't be touching him again bothers him on a level he hadn't anticipated. "I did not request that you desist entirely," Spock says quietly, not looking at him. "I only ask that it not result in bodily injury again."

Kirk thinks that over for a moment before reaching for him. He isn't being subtle or secretive this time; there's no hesitation in the touch. He slides his hand under Spock's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

Spock's breath hitches in his lungs, his eyelids drooping a bit. It's something his mother used to do, a way she could tell him without words how much she loved him, a gesture she used in place of overly showy human ones like kisses or embraces. It tugs at his heart and he finds himself squeezing back.

"I couldn't get it out of my head," Kirk murmurs in the dark space between them. "You're always so controlled. I liked how you couldn't help reacting." His thumb traces along the skin between Spock's thumb and forefinger, and he shivers at the sensations. A lopsided grin spreads over Kirk's face. "Like that."

The stroking over his skin echoes through him, touches a primal part of him that wants, a part of him he's been repressing as much as he can. He says nothing, wishing he could simply lay back and let the caress wash over him.

Instead, Kirk unlaces their fingers, taking Spock's hand and turning it to face him. He studies it for a moment before leaning in, and before Spock can think to free himself, Kirk has placed a kiss in the middle of his palm.

He shudders outright, unable to suppress it, clenching his teeth against a heartfelt moan. "I..." He's not even sure what he wants to say, unraveling at his closely guarded seams.

Kirk does it again, his lips lingering on the skin. Spock feels the moment they part, the moment a warm tongue brushes against him for the barest second. He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenched tightly enough that he can feel a tension headache brewing. He can't do this, can't have this, can't be undone by such a simple gesture.

Then Kirk wraps his free hand around his neck and all his thoughts of repression and self-denial are lost in the kiss that follows. He expects lust and bruising passion and receives neither - it is sweet, swift, almost a tease. "Come here," Kirk breathes against his lips, and he follows without a second thought.

They kiss again as they stretch out over the bed, and Spock gives up on controlling himself. He clenches his free hand in Kirk's uniform, parting his lips and coaxing Kirk's mouth to open for him. He moans against his tongue when Kirk starts massaging his hand, fingers rubbing along tendons and joints, the sensations bypassing his heart entirely and heading straight for his lower regions. The muscles in his palm shift, tense, relax under the ministrations, and Spock has to break the kiss so he can breathe.

Freeing Kirk's mouth is a disastrous idea. He pulls Spock's hand to his lips again, nipping sharply at the pad of his index finger before sucking it into his mouth. Spock couldn't be any more aroused if those lips were wrapped around his cock, his hips twitching against Kirk's.

His finger is released but the lips never leave him, tracing a licking path along the side of his finger and sucking on the tender v of skin between his index and middle finger. The sucking thunders through him, his head falling back against his pillow, desperately trying to control the moans threatening to escape his chest.

Both of Kirk's hands encircle his wrist, thumbs rubbing along the underside where his pulse is racing through him, then digging into the fleshy pads of his palm while he continues his licking, exploratory journey of Spock's fingers. And Spock is drowning in it, barely able to breathe, absolutely unable to close his eyes because he has to watch Kirk's mouth move over his skin.

He trembles when the licking ceases and Kirk starts pressing brief, almost chaste kisses against the pad of each fingertip, the sensation too much of a tease after feeling Kirk's tongue on him. He shifts restlessly, hips pushing up against Kirk's again, and he represses the urge to whimper like a child. He needs more, needs something to push him over the edge, needs-

Kirk presses his mouth to his palm again, and this time the lust and bruising passion Spock had expected earlier comes into play full-force. Kirk kisses his hand as if he were kissing his lips, as if he were sucking his cock; his tongue presses wetly against his flesh, digging into his life line, tracing his heart line. Spock's hips jerk forward, right on the brink of destruction.

And then Kirk pulls back and blows a warm breath all over that wet, oversensitized skin, and Spock is gone, eyes screwed shut, a low moan escaping his lips as he comes in his pants, the only friction received from Kirk's leg and the fabric of his uniform.

He basks in the privacy of his closed eyes, collecting himself without having to see Kirk watching him, his fingers twitching from time to time in the other man's grasp. He still feels off-centered when he finally opens his eyes, but at least his consciousness isn't scattered from here to the stars. "Jim..." he murmurs, searching for the right words.

"Get some rest. You've got a head injury and bridge duty in six hours." He presses closer, and Spock can feel him half-hard against his thigh. "Computer, set alarm for 0300."

Spock raises an eyebrow at that. "Our shift begins at 0800."

That earns him the cocky, self-assured grin he knows so well. "I'll need time for the other hand."

That seems reasonable to him.


End file.
